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by snivellus (queervulcan)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Newton Geiszler, Kid Fic, M/M, Misgendering, Nonbinary Hermann Gottlieb, Pre-Slash, Trans Newton Geiszler, pre PR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queervulcan/pseuds/snivellus
Summary: we could have been great





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**Author's Note:**

> for my dearest graham cracker, based upon your _[tweet](https://twitter.com/emonewt/status/985720432442728449)_

Newt stretches up on his toes, trying to reach the reflection he can just peek at in the mirror. Even standing on his tippy toes, he can only see the crown of his head. 

He strains harder, letting out a whine when he doesn’t get much further than his eyes. Even jumping, only his head is visible. He backs up a few steps, and can make out his shirt like this.

It is his daddy’s shirt, one that’s too long for him and pools at his knees, extending down his hands. He barely holds up the pants he pilfered, rolled up so many times they could fit another version of him in it. 

Newton pokes at his face, feeling the softness in his cheeks, feels the curves in his cheeks and around his lips. He thinks of his daddy’s face, the stubble he shaves off each morning and come night is back; how he likes to rub it on Newton’s cheek just to make him squeal in laughter and run away, pretending he is a civilian and his daddy is Godzilla. 

Jacob knocks on the door, and before Newt can yell to not come in, the door is opening a crack, just enough to where Jacob can see Newt standing before the sink mirror. 

“Newt? Is everything alright?” Jacob opens the door further, and leans against the door frame, but Newt is petrified in place.

“I- I-” Newt’s stutters out, valiantly trying to speak around the catch in his throat.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright kiddo.” Jacob kneels down, gathering Newt in his arms, placing his head in the crook of his neck and rubbing his back. “You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me, you know?”

Newt whimpers, latching on to his daddy. 

“Daddy…” Newt starts, squeezing his arms tighter. Jacob gathers his child in his arms, making sure the pants are on securely before relocating to Newt’s bedroom. 

Jacob has always let Newt have free creativity within his own bedroom, so the walls are done up in lime green, with figurines, Lego's, and action figures littered around the floor and bookshelves. For once, Jacob considers it may be a sign of what’s going in his baby’s head.

They sit on the bed, Newt clinging onto Jacob, refusing to let go. He seeks comfort in an instinctual manner, and this is how he claims it.

“Daddy- I- I wanna be like you, when I grow up.”

Jacob’s brow furrows, “You mean working with instruments?”

Newt shakes his head, and squeezes his eyes shut, “No! I want to be like you- I want to shave like you do, and get my hands dirty, and wear trousers and those fancy shirts you complain about.”

“Princess, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” 

Newt groans and flaps his hands, agitated, “I want to be a boy! That’s it.”

Jacob is quiet for so long that Newt starts to sweat, and just when he’s about to open his mouth to apologize, or take it back, to laugh it off as a joke, Jacob clears his throat.

“So you want me to call you my son? Things like that?”

Newt lets out a breathe he didn’t realize he was holding, exuberant and yelling in his daddy’s ear, “Yeah! Of course!”

Jacob chuckles, still mildly confused but not willing to let his daughter- his  _ son’s _ \- joy die because of him. Instead, he blows him a raspberry on his cheek, laughing along as Newt screams and wriggles away.

* * *

Newt stands outside Hermann’s door, off put, but needing help regardless. He is acutely aware of how they are brand new coworkers, barely even interacting outside of a professional setting. 

There is absolutely no one else he would trust to come to for this. He sees the way Hermann’s eyes linger for a second too long on the things society says he shouldn’t, sees the way he grips at bracelets snug around his wrists when he thinks no one is watching, sometimes sees him hunched over with the female techs at LOCCENT, but never close enough to hear the conversation. 

His decision is stolen from him, however, when Hermann opens the door with a bang and a scowl. 

“What is it?” He impolitely asks, already fed up and Newt hasn’t even spoken a word.

Newt swallows back his initial fear, wiping his palms on his jeans. “I need your help.”

Hermann’s eyes narrow, no doubt suspicious. “My help.”

Newt swallows, and nervously nods. Hermann’s eyes continue to be suspicious, but he must see the nervousness in Newt for truth, because he steps aside and lets him pass without another word. 

As soon as the door is closed, Hermann is thumping his cane on the floor, agitated. “Explain yourself, Doctor Geiszler. It is nearly eleven at night, and I have an early morning.”

“I need you to help me learn how to shave.” Newt gasps out in one breath, shaky and sweating, afraid of being rejected, afraid he read the signs incorrectly.

“Why did you not learn this as a teenager, you idiot?” Hermann hisses, certain he is being played a fool.

Newt whimpers out a response as quickly as humanly possible, “I didn’t start taking hormones until about a few months ago- Hermann, please, I’m not trying to- to make fun of you. But I see the way you look at stuff, how you sometimes act, and I  _ know  _ I’m not wrong. I’m not just seeing things.”

Hermann looks at him, looks long and hard until Newt starts to squirm on the balls of his feet. Finally, Hermann nods, determined. 

“Very well. Step into the bathroom, and we may begin.” 

Hermann doesn’t wait for Newt, already making his way to the small space, and Newt scrambles to keep up. The bathroom is small, and results in Newt pressing his shoulders and hips flush against Hermann, but the taller man doesn’t seem to mind beyond a passing glance.

Hermann unwraps a new razor - a backup if his were to become too dull or break- and slathers soap over both their faces, Newt’s hands being too shaky.

“Here- shave following the hair. Be careful not to cut yourself as well.” Hermann’s hands show him in their reflection, and Newt sincerely tries to follow it, and finds his wrists have locked up in fear.

“I can’t do this.” Newt squeaks out in fear. Hermann sighs, but does not belittle him.

Instead, he stands to be just behind his shoulder, and resting his upper body against Newt’s for balance, he gently takes his wrists in his hands. Hermann goes slowly, making sure Newt’s eyes are following his hands instead of his face. 

His voice is quiet when he eventually finishes, wiping off Newton’s face with a towel. “There- not so difficult, is it?”

Newt feels his face, patting his once again soft cheeks, feeling around the upper lip and jawline where he can still feel a hint of stubble. He feels a burning behind his eyes, his lips starting to wobble, and before he can help it, a sniffle escapes. 

He meets Hermann’s eyes in the mirror, is greeted to wide eyes and flat palms on his shoulders, and he can’t help the rush of emotion he experiences in that moment. 

He breaks into sobs, overwhelmed with joy and sadness and a hint of bitterness, and Hermann makes a soft, distressed sound behind him. They stand like this, alternatively making and breaking eye contact, until Newt’s sobs quiet into sniffles, and then those quieten as well. 

Newt meets Hermann eyes one last time in the mirror, and matches the warmth he finds, reaching up slowly to hold Hermann’s hand in his. 

Hermann squeezes his hand, and Newt holds on. 


End file.
